Needless to say . . . .

I am hundreds upon hundreds of messages behind, and I have a lot of catching up to do in other areas, too.

If there's something you think I need to know that you posted between 6 a.m. Thursday and 9 p.m. Friday, zip me a note at bill@goonbox.com

I am still feeling a little oogy, and my back is in knots, believe it or not, from spending so much time in bed.

Today, I hope to relax and see some friends, get caught up on some school stuff, starting packing for the trip to the National Honor Society national convention. (We leave Wednesday, and I guess the big game at school was "If Bill can't go on the trip, can *I* take the seven well-mannered NHS kids to Washington, D.C.?").

I also need to get NaNo back on track.

Phone's on. I'll be around.

Rioting . . .

I wound up watching a lot more cable news this week than usual, especially Friday afternoon.

Question, based on coverage time:

Is the rioting in Argentina *that much* much important than the rioting in France?

I think the French riots are a huge story.

I will admit, I have not seen a daily paper in three days.

I am fascinated by the French riots, and I think they are as important to the American media consumer as the Argentinian ones (which, of course are also mixed with "Bush approval rating" stories.

Also, while I am asking about media coverage:

Earlier this week, seven Americans were killed in Iraq, making October the fourth highest month since the start of the war. Coupled with recently passing 2000 deaths and the growing CIA/WMD questions, I felt this mandated front-page treatment. Neither the Boston Globe nor NY Times put it there. This bothered me a touch. (For background, I have supported the president in the past, and I deeply support the troops. I am not thinking this needs play as an anti-war story, but rather as a legitimate news story.).

My favorite pub gets props in Get Fuzzy

Get Fuzzy

A solemn warning . . .

Just as an aside, if you are a sci-fi/horror fan, they should warn you before they put you in the MRI machine, all trapped and stuff with only a mirror to see what's going on with the folks running the test.

I kept looking up and expecting to see Gahan Wilson-esque aliens (or maybe the green ones from the Simpsons), scoot into the control room, spew blood and body parts all over, then leave, smiling and waving and leaving me trapped in the machine with cavitation and nine-part industrial metal harmony ringing in my head.